“She’ll have no difficulty getting work elsewhere, and I hope she’ll be better adjusted.”
“How about the story of Mr. Cordell’s arrest? And the picture?” Penny inquired. “Will the Star print them tomorrow?”
“On the front page of our first edition,” Mr. Parker chuckled. “Salt didn’t turn over the plate to the police, so we’re all set. By morning, the story should be bigger and better than ever. By then, the guilt will be well pinned on Cordell, and some of the Snark gang may have been rounded up.”
Curious to learn the very latest details, Salt called the police station. He was told that Ben Bartell had identified several of the Snark’s crew from police pictures, and it was expected all would be arrested within twenty-four hours.
“Not a bad night’s work,” Mr. Parker chuckled, as he snapped off the photography room lights. “Everything locked?”
“How about the skylight?” asked Penny.
“Open again,” reported Salt as he checked it. “It’s just no use trying to get folks to cooperate around here. Too many fresh air fiends.”
“Let it stay unlocked,” Mr. Parker directed carelessly. “With our prowler safely behind bars, we’ve no further cause for worry.” He looked at his watch. “Now, even though it is late, suppose we go and celebrate?”
“Oh, fine!” cried Penny. “And why not stop at the Safety building and ask Ben Bartell to go with us? I want to tell him about his new job.”
“So do I,” agreed her father heartily. “Where shall we go?”